


Chapter Seventy: All Machines are Quiet

by CavalierConvoy



Series: MTMTE Series One: Shoot Straight with a Crooked Gun [71]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers: Beast Machines, Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Gen, Illnesses, Injury Recovery, Multi, Post-Divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4606566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On present day Cybertron, Jetfire wakes up in an Iacon hospital, learning that the other Autobots were exiled into the wilds outside of the city, and now Starscream is in charge of the united, factionless Cybertronians, but a simple pinbeam from an old friend, presumed to bed dead, gives him hope to stand. If only he could get a word to Bumblebee...</p><p>A half-solar cycle ago, on the <i>Wreckers' Spoils</i>, the Maximals, Octane, and Sandstorm learn of a gruesome fate for the crew of the <i>Lost Light</i>, only to have their search postponed by Hellfire succumbing to a sudden, unknown illness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter Seventy: All Machines are Quiet

There's nothing I can do  
I spend my days in dreams  
And join the endless queue,  
So far from the machines,  
All the machines are quiet.

—["All Machines are Quiet"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tMQZ1N0SYag) by Robert Calvert, from Freq

 

Iacon Hospital  
Iacon, Cybertron  
Now

Someone was calling his name, distant. Checking his internal chronometer, Jetfire was greeted instead by a blinding pain in his right side and his internal diagnostics running low coolant alerts and damage reports in his HUD. Attempted to sit. Failed. Too painful. Attempted to online optics. Failed.

"You've lost energon," the other mech ordered as a hypo hissed against the jet's neck. "This will help with the pain."

Attempted to access short-term memory. Failed, cause: pain management protocols. Gave up. "What happened?" he whispered.

"Unimportant," the medic chided. "Don't know why he wants to keep you alive, though..." A squelch of a comm. "Hey, fearless leader, he's up."

"Where's Bluestreak and Warpath?" Jetfire demanded.

"With the other 'Bots, most likely. You got the bad hit; Apeface did a number to your coolant and manoeuvring systems. Just doing what the boss says to do. Though don't know why he'd bother."

 _Boss?_ "Who are you?"

"Oh, yeah, your optics are still offline, aren't they? It's me, Quickmix." A shuffle. "Yeah, read your article on the effects and comparisons of enriched nucleon in two- and four-stroke combustion engines. Pretty neat stuff, if I don't say — well, looks like your vitals are good, still got a bit of coolant leakage, but Flatline'll check it out when he does his rounds — "

"Flatline? Where's Fixit?"

"Not here anymore." Quickmix's answer was matter-of-fact. "He went with the other 'Bots."

"Quickmix, you're an Autobot."

"Not anymore." Again, rapid-fire response; Quickmix had expected Jetfire's observation. "Let's get your optics back online."

 _Not anymore?_ "What's going on?"

"Above my payscale; best to let the boss tell you." A click, and the giant's optics flickered online, the harsh florescent lighting of the clinic flooding his sensors before levelling out. From the repairs in progress, there had been a conflict, but whether from a seismic event or a battle was unclear. "Look, I got other patients to tend to; Fixit left us in a bind. Had a bit of a crisis just now, and got other patients...anyway, just take it easy and stay put, else the boss will have my head."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Jetfire offered before thinking over the suggestion.

"I'd do what he suggests, old friend," Starscream suggested, entering the giant's field of vision. "Quickmix, I've found, becomes quite...animated...if crossed."

Jetfire eased himself into a sitting position; even then, he towered over his former _conjunx endura_. "Starscream," he acknowledged, as though delivering an accusation.

The Seeker smiled, and had Jetfire been novice to Starscream's mannerisms, it could have been with warmth and fondness. "How are you feeling? I apologise for the lack of bedside manners around here; we are in the process of restructuring after Megatron's capture. It had been a ... trying ... couple of sols." Pulling a chair to the bedside, Starscream sat, one leg over the opposite knee. There, Jetfire noticed the torn canopy, the blackened smudges from his optics. "Swindle of all mechs had found you, as well as Bluestreak, Warpath, and Blurr, and alerted my guards during Megatron and Soundwave's siege. But fear not!" The smaller jet held up a hand with a broad grin. "Megatron has been recaptured and locked in stasis. And those Decepticons loyal to his cause have been driven into the wilds."

Jetfire remained silent, nodding at key moments in Starscream's explanation, practised, but distracted.

A message had blipped in his inbox, a benefit of being an interstellar transport: internal subspace communication protocols, and the inline address —

— his spark skipped a pulse.

_moonshine-bandit@lostlight.λscorpii.ori.sagittari_

The timestamp was three sols ago.

The _Lost Light_ survived.

_Artemis survived!_

_Bumblebee and Prowl should know of this!_

He quelled the surge of joy before it could escape his spark, maintained his stoicism, and instead focused on whatever power trip Starscream was on. _Can't let him know. Can't. No matter what, Starscream cannot know the Lost Light survived!_

"Unfortunately, the Autobots were given the same ultimatum. Bumblebee and his ilk," Starscream continued; if Jetfire had slipped in his excitement, the smaller jet made no indication. "And they, too, accepted the same fate as Soundwave. All I ask was for one thing: eschew the emblem, become factionless. There is no need of factions in our new world, our new government."

_Wait, what?_

"My oldest, dearest friend," Starscream leaned forward, clasping Jetfire's shoulder and meeting his optics. "I implore you, head my plea. I need your help. I need you. Your brilliance, your intelligence, your ability to reason and delegate. I need your diplomacy. I apologise for whatever happened during the war, and I've come to recognise the error of my ways. I want to fix the damage I've done. Please, Skyfire, I need you by my side, once more. Toss away the brand of oppression, as I have; together, we can bring our world back to its former grandeur. There is no room for Autobot or Decepticon in this new world. Instead, let us join together, as we had in the past, and bring forth a new era of peace."

Skyfire pressed his mouth into a severe line. "You exiled everyone? How did you — "

"Not everyone. The factionless — the ones Prowl called NAILs — and those willing to give up their brands are still here, and they outnumber those who were insistent to cling to the past, to old prejudices." A glint of Starscream's telltale smirk broke through his otherwise sincere smile. "I did what was best for our people. It was the factions that brought in the ruin of our planet, each with their own ideas of dealing with the crisis at hand, and once the Functionists had been dealt with, instead of working together, we warred against one another." He placed a hand over his spark. "And yes, I was guilty in inciting such a rebellion, alongside Megatron. I threw myself to the public's mercy, swore to do whatever in my power to — "

Jetfire, favouring his aching side, slid off the slab and onto his feet.

And he walked —

_— limped —_

— out of the OR, into the hallway.

He would not look back.

_You never change._

There were others in the hallway, medics and patients alike, all staring at him, all the while opening up the message in his inbox.

_Hey, Sky._

_Figured I'd write; Blaster says the pin beam's more likely to reach that way if the data packet's small._

_Cav and I think about you and the boys a lot...._

__

*

Wreckers' Spoils  
Ten megacycles ago  
Eighty-seven light years from Lambda Scorpii system

Reports were coming in, sporadic at first, from third-party sources.

And then, just over a hundred light years from Shaula, the subspace pinged: at first, test announcements, station identifications, and then, video.

Hellfire was reluctant to inform the others at first. At this point, morale was strained. Not low; once Sandstorm was let in on Pantera's identity, things seemed to have ironed out between the crew. The Autobot triple changer focused on intel from the Galactic Council's state-run news program, reporting a battle over the wreckage of a ship that matched the _Lost Light_ 's description in a decaying orbit around Ofsted XVII.

"Were we too late?" Depth Charge asked as Sandstorm scrutinised the report.

 _«Statistically, there's only one operational U1 hopship,»_ Hellfire replied, tone distant. _«Do we have a time stamp of the report?»_

"It's fresh," Pantera stated, perched on the chair in beast mode to Sandstorm's left, tail swishing.

"And we'll stay as far away as that as possible," Octane added, an octave higher and at double speed as he pressed a finger at the screen. "No way, no how."

"'...the 74th Engineering Corps'" Sandstorm read aloud, "'had initially met resistance from Black Block Consortia troops while on a salvage mission to dismantle a derelict Cybertronian ship in decaying orbit around Smartplanet™ Ofsted XVII (Ethics). Both armies were then ambushed by five Decepticons — '"

"Only five?" Depth Charge harrumphed. "Not much saying for either army."

"Seriously, Blue, were you listening to anything we've been saying for the past, what, ten decacycles?" Octane paced the bridge, wringing his hands. "C'mon, Arty, tell him! We aren't going anywhere near there!"

"Five 'Cons ambushing two superpowers usually means Decepticon Justice Division." Pantera sighed, resting her head against her paws, ears folded back. "We're too late."

"Okay, I'm going to ask the obvious question," Sandstorm ignored his panicking partner, "but is anyone taking into consideration that we received that info dump from Brat recently?" The Autobot triple-changer indicated the screen with both his hands. "'The Council and the Consortia formed a coalition to push back, resulting in the Decepticons' retreat. Due to the quantum foam leakage from the derelict ship's engines, coupled with the warp gates created from both armies, further salvage is ill-advised until further notice. The 74th Engineering is working on solutions to safely remove the debris to allow Curricula's security and reconstruction crews back on planet.'"

 _«Quantum foam?»_ Hellfire leaned forward to regard the others huddled around the comm station. _«A: that's not a good thing. B: that sounds like the Lost Light. C: can you find another article about the initial attack? I've got a working theory.»_

"Give me a cycle," Sandstorm pulled up a news directory.

"Mind sharing?" Depth Charge demanded.

_«Well, currently it's a hypothesis. The quantum foam troubles me. 'Tera, you know where I'm going with this, right?»_

"The _Lost Light_ from our time had been leaking it."

_«Well, not so much leaking by our time, but enough for you to be affected. What we — 'Tera and I — know, the ship in our time appeared to have been broken apart, but pulled back together, at least the accessible parts. Sandstorm, is there any information on survivors?»_

"Give me some time!" Sandstorm growled. "Primus, half these news sites are in their parent languages, and the translator only works so fast."

"Seriously?" Octane interrupted. "Between two military powers that hate us and an assassination squad that I'm willing to bet was hunting not only fraggin' Overlord but also Deadlock and quite possibly Arty? Wait. I confused myself." Pointing to the Transmetal jaguar, he stuttered over his words.

"Tangent universe, remember," Pantera answered.

"Whatever the hell that means," Sandstorm grumbled. "Thing is, and please correct me if I'm wrong, but we've got confirmation from Four Winds that the Lost Light was at Hedonia, Temptoria, Theophany...and then we get this." He tapped an execute command, bringing up a new screen displaying another news article. "This has a date stamp of three-quarters of a stel ago. Ofsted XVII faculty distress call to the Council, reporting a Cybertronian conflict involving two ships within their orbital space. And we have confirmed ship identifications: _Lost Light_ out of Iacon, and _Peaceful Tryanny_ of — "

"Fraggin' hell! Why are we even contemplating this?!" Octane screeched. "That's it! That's a whole payload of 'nope'! Pidge, turn this ship around! We're going back to Cybertron! Frag this, I've had enough, that's it, _finito,_ done! Sorry, Arty, but if you got caught by the DJD, I'm sorry, but at least you still exist and I don't know what I'm even talking about but we need to get back to Cybertron now because strength in numbers even if half of those hates us!"

"Sandstorm, please attend to Octane," Pantera ordered, jumping down from the chair, transforming in descent. "We'll figure this out, and I promise you, they're not coming after you. You couldn't be on The List; you deflected after Megatron was overthrown. Galvatron does not command Tarn."

_How do I know this?_

"Besides," Sandstorm approached his panicking friend, holding out a hand. "Tarn isn't that stupid to attack a Warworld."

"Keep telling yourself that, Sandy." Octane paced the bridge, worrying his hands.

Depth Charge approached Pantera, pressing his arm against her shoulder, as the triple changers argued their situation. "Sit-rep," he growled into her audio receptor.

"Bleed-through," Pantera answered, turning her head slightly to meet his gaze. "Only answer I got. And I agree with Sandstorm. Something's weird about this."

"Temporal malfunction?" the manta Maximal suggested.

"Above my pay grade, Blue," she admitted.

"Think running this monstrosity back to Cybertron's a good idea?"

"Might be our only choice. Especially if our hosts are feeling threatened by this revelation."

 _«I just got a communique,»_ Hellfire announced, bringing the separate discussions for a halt. _«It's from Cybertron.»_

"What? They've got comms back up?" Sandstorm demanded.

_«Just got it through the subspace. Text only.»_

"That's it, we go home." Octane grabbed Sandstorm's shoulders. "We should have never left. We were better off thinking they were blown up quick-like. Now knowing that Arty and Brat were likely butchered — "

"Oc, please, calm the frag down!" Sandstorm mirrored the gesture, before pulling the taller mech's head down to touch brows. "Calm down. We're going home. Don't worry. Just...calm down and let's think this over. Hellfire, what does it say?"

_«"The war is over. Peace is won. All are welcome. Come home." It's an all-frequency broadcast.»_

"Trap." Depth Charge's observation was a shell from a shotgun.

 _«That's not all. I also have another one, this one direct. Encrypted.»_ A pause. _«From Jetfire.»_

"Jetfire?" Pantera broke away from Depth Charge's contact, brushing a hand against his en route to the primary console. "What does it read?"

Hellfire hesitated, the static of an open comm filling the dead air. _«Megatron escaped,»_ he reported. _«I'm...assuming the original.»_

"Yeah, long story, tell to you over drinks," Sandstorm gestured his hand in a tight circle. "Thing is, how?"

"You really need to ask that?" Octane demanded, voice hitching. "Between the power outages and the likelihood of, you know, rioting and looting and whoever's in charge of the security probably not giving a damn about actual security?"

_«Way this is reading, it's more of quick note to bring us — well, you two — up to speed of what's going on.»_

"Warning us," Sandstorm stated. "Bring it up on screen. No secrets, right? Let's see it."

The red and gold flyer flicked his hand towards the primary screen, revealing up the message.

_They survived, alive and well. Last checkpoint: Hedonia._

_Do not come home. A conflict's rising, and it is no longer safe for the factions._

_Locate others and inform them of the situation. Correspondence with home is too risky. I will keep you posted as things develop._

_Stay away. Be safe._

__

"Oh, big surprise there," Sandstorm grumbled.

"So much for the I/D chips," Octane added. "And damn am I glad were weren't part of that fiasco. Long story — "

" — tell you over drinks," Pantera finished, crossing her arms over her chest, her tail swishing. "Not safe for factions?"

"My guess? Non-aligned Cybertronians overthrew Bee and took over," Sandstorm shrugged. "Jetfire would have told us it was the 'Cons if that was the case."

"NAILs got fed up, kicked the factions out," Depth Charge suggested. "Who was their leader?"

"Some pretty flyer named Metalhawk, my guess," the violet and black triple-changer fell haphazardly onto his bench. "At least he was the leader of the biggest group. Don't know anything about it, save that he was ready to go toe-to-toe with both Pop Op and Screamer at the same time."

"I don't recognise the name," Pantera shook her head.

 _«I'm deconstructing the metadata in the message; it might prove more clues. A little slower, but I am getting some broadcasts from Iacon; it's spotty, but — anyone else hearing that?»_ Hellfire interrupted himself, leaning over the nav board. _«A crackling...? Like something's on fi—»_

A loud snapped heralded an even louder screech as Hellfire pitched forward, held into place by the navigator harness, and the Spoils plunged into strobing red light.

"Octane, take the board!" Sandstorm ordered, darting towards the screaming flyer. "Medical history! Seizures, malfunctions, anything!"

"None known!" Pantera responded, wrenching the triage kit, nearly as large as she, from the wall and darting to Hellfire's writhing form.

"Aside from Starscream's possession?" Depth Charge reminded, scaling to the primary board and switching navigation to primary control. Pointing to Octane, he ordered, "Take the nav! I got helm!"

"Do it, Octane!" Pantera snapped. "Sandstorm, what can I do?"

"Get him to stop screaming in my audio receptor, for starters!" tossing the medical scanner aside, he growled in frustration. "He's cooking from inside — I can't do anything about it!"

"From inside? Where?" Pantera demanded.

"I don't know!" Indicating the flyer's melting optical filament, Sandstorm stumbled over his words. "Brain's overheating, core temperature's spiking, but there's no sign of infection, so likely an anti-inflammatory isn't going to work — "

"Do it!" the feline Autobot snarled.

"It won't do any good — "

"Dammit Sandstorm, do it or I will!"

The Autobot triple-changer huffed, glaring down at the smaller Cybertronian, before snatching the triage kit and flipping it open, grabbing a hypo and a cartridge. "It isn't going to work without an infection — "

"It's all we got! We lose him, we lose our full navigation!"

"And we can't have that now, can we?" Sandstorm administered the hypo in Hellfire's neck, the device hissing. The screaming ebbed, but did nothing to stop the winged Autobot from writhing. Picking the scanner back up, the orange and black mech reattached the diagnostic cable to Hellfire's arm and looked over the readout. "Oh, that helped. Now his spark's collapsing."

"Monitor him," Pantera ordered. "I need to think."

"Wonderful time to have a sitdown, Prime!" Sandstorm rifled back.

"Okay, let me parse this out aloud for your benefit," she snapped. "How can Starscream's spark be collapsing? It's indestructible, and that's what's been powering the kid since he came into the Maximals' radar."

"Oh! I know!" Octane raised his hand. "Can't have two Starscreams — or at least two of his sparks — in the same universe!"

"Not now, Octane!" Sandstorm warned. "It's all I can do now."

"Where's the nearest medical facility?" Pantera demanded.

"You hated the gashole!" Sandstorm snapped.

"Sandy, did you hear her? Kid's not Starscream, even if he has his spark!" Octane countered.

"Enough!" The felinoid ordered. "Closest medical facility! Now!"

"Not gonna like the answer, Arty," the taller triple-changer admitted.

"Cybertron," Depth Charge guessed.

Octane nodded. "Cybertron."

 

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** The Farthest Star


End file.
